"I like the game," continued Tetson, "but as Hicks is a damn fool at it, I don't indulge very often. Hicks is too young, anyway,--a nice fellow, but altogether too young for men to associate with. Trotting 'round with the girls is more in his line." "Really," remarked the newcomer, uneasily. He was not quite sure whether or not Hicks had got out of ear-shot. "Fact," said the President,--"cold truth. Marion can't play, either. I've had Santosa up several times for a game, but he's too dashed respectful to beat me. You'll not be that way, Hemming?" "I should hope not," replied Hemming, absently, his eyes still turned toward the door through which the rest of the party had vanished. "What d'ye say to five dollars the game?" Tetson whispered. The adventurer's heart sank, but he followed his host to the billiard-room with an unconcerned air. They played until past midnight, the President in his shirt-sleeves, with the yellow cigar smouldering always. A servant marked for them, and another uncorked the soda-water. After the last shot had been made, Valentine Hicks strolled in, with his hands in his pockets and his brow clouded. "Did the old man do you?" he inquired of Hemming. The free-lance shook his head. "I took ten pounds away from him," he said. The secretary whistled. CHAPTER III. THE POST OF HONOUR.--THE SECRETARY'S AFFAIR Hemming awoke with a clear head, despite the President's whiskey, and remembered, with satisfaction, the extra ten pounds. His windows were wide open, and a cool dawn wind came in across the gardens. He threw aside the sheet and went over to the middle window, and, finding that the ledge extended to form a narrow balcony, stepped outside. Away to the right, he could mark a bend of the river by the low-lying mist. He sniffed the air. "There is fever in it," he said, and wondered how many kinds of a fool Mr. Tetson was. He was sorry for the ladies. They did not look like the kind of people to enjoy being shut away from the world in such a God-forsaken hole as this. Why didn't the old ass start a town on the coast? he asked himself. While engaged in these puzzling reflections, Smith rapped at the door, and entered. He carried coffee, a few slices of dry toast, and a jug of shaving-water. "Will you ride this morning, sir?" he asked. "Why, yes," replied Hemming, and said he would be shaved before drinking his coffee. As the valet lathered his chin, he asked if the President rode every morning. "Not 'e, sir," replied the man, "but Miss Tetson does, and Mr. 'Icks." Hemming found his well-worn riding-breeches brushed and folded, his boots and spurs shining like the sun, and a new cotton tunic ready for him. He looked his surprise at sight of the last article. "You didn't give me any order, sir," explained the man, "but, bein' as I'm a bit of a tilor myself, I thought as 'ow you wouldn't mind--" Hemming interrupted him with uplifted hand.